


Whiskey

by dykejonze



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, Underage Drinking, outright denial that anything bad could ever happen, the writings of a delusional old woman, theyre both fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:53:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7267063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykejonze/pseuds/dykejonze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just try not to throw up in bed.” He answers, a fondness in his voice that he can’t ever help when it comes to Eren, who acts without thinking and is eager to please, who probably jumped at the offer to sit around with soldiers older and more experienced than him and try to keep up.</p>
<p>or,</p>
<p>drunk eren wakes armin up to cuddle and nothing bad happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> i've been literally unable to write for shit since chapter 82 came out so here's this. you'd think a grown adult in their mid-20s would be better adjusted than this, but if you do think that you would be mistaken.

Green eyes. Armin is falling, gut lurching. This is it. Something final, and he guesses he can accept it, even as a scream spills from his mouth like vomit. A name. Green eyes.

He shoots up to a resounding _thud_ in the darkness, breath heavy, clutching his chest as he heaves. The fabric of his shirt balled up in his fist is damp, and he slowly becomes aware of his surroundings, of the sweat that runs down the back of his neck. Somewhere, the low droning of someone snoring brings him back to the barracks. Fevered murmuring from two bunks down, _“No, Sasha… that’s… my sandwich…”_ Connie’s sleep talking has been a private source of entertainment for weeks, one nobody but Armin seems to notice. _“Corned beef…”_

Another thud rings out, louder this time, a clumsy boot against the wooden floor, followed by a litany of curses. The snoring from across the room comes to an abrupt halt, only to resume again a moment later with more gusto than before. Armin’s fingers slowly unfurl, his hand dropping to his side as his heartbeat slows to a dull thrum against his chest. He leans forward, peering out from his bunk while his eyes adjust, scanning the room for the source of the noise. “...Hello?” 

Impossibly large eyes meet his, suddenly mere inches away when before there had been nothing but empty space, sending him reeling back with a gasp, chest seizing once more. 

“Armin?” It speaks with a voice too familiar, a face emerging with furrowed brows and a body following. 

“Eren,” Armin gives out a breath, a laugh, relieved and a little embarrassed, and if the warmth spreading to his cheeks and ears tells him anything, he’s beat red. It goes unnoticed as Eren drops into the bunk without invitation, a merciful gift of the night, though Armin has his doubts that Eren would be any less oblivious with the sun shining and a giant sign above his head. “You startled me.” 

“‘S’just me.” As if it should have been obvious. Maybe it should have been, though Armin can only accept that it hardly matters anyway since Eren has already settled under the blanket, wiggling to get comfortable, before he can think of a counter. It isn’t the first time Eren has let himself into Armin’s bed and it’s sure not to be the last, so he sinks down beside him, lying on his side. He can see Eren clearly now, can see the rise and fall of his chest, the way his disheveled hair splays out on the pillow underneath his head and how his lips part slightly as his eyes slip shut. There’s a bitter sweetness on his breath, the unmistakable scent of alcohol, and Armin suddenly can’t place Eren anywhere after dinner, can’t account for him stumbling in so late in the night. 

“Eren, are you drunk?” One eye cracks opens, green glazed over with exhaustion and, Armin was certain, inebriation. The other eye follows slowly, as if Eren has to take a moment to remember how to keep both open at once. It turns out to be too much effort, apparently, because a moment later both eyes are closed again and Eren is rolling onto his stomach, mumbling something into the pillow.

“What?” 

“Yeah, kind of.” The words are still muffled, a little thick behind a mouthful of fabric, but Eren belts them out loud enough to wake up a dead man, though somehow it seems that none of their sleeping comrades are disturbed. The snoring goes on, while Connie’s sleep talking has faded into unintelligible whispers. But Armin can hear it now, the slurring words, and he can’t really imagine where Eren would have gotten any alcohol in the first place. It wasn’t as if he had any money, and the idea of Eren taking a seat in a tavern was almost laughable. 

“Kind of? Where’d you even--”

“In th’stables…some other guys... I… feel gross. Armin.” It’s hard not to laugh, and though Armin has a nagging feeling that he’s meant to be annoyed, he’s not. Eren moves closer, still face-down, hands coming up from under the pillow to tangle in his own hair. “I feel so gross.” 

“Just try not to throw up in bed.” He answers, a fondness in his voice that he can’t ever help when it comes to Eren, who acts without thinking and is eager to please, who probably jumped at the offer to sit around with soldiers older and more experienced than him and try to keep up. He throws an arm around him, can feel him shifting again underneath him until tired eyes meet his own. Green. He remembers his dream and shudders, pushing it away and keeping Eren close. “What’d you drink?” 

Eren snorts, his head finding Armin’s chest and resting against it, warm and heavy, and the dream is forgotten as quickly as it had been remembered. “Whiskey.” 

“What’d it taste like?”

“Ugh. Horsepiss.” A smile tugs at Armin’s lips and he feels at last like he can fall asleep again. “Can feel your heart beating...s’nice. Feels nice.” 

“Yours too, Eren. Go to sleep.” He gets a mumbled response, one that sounds like nothing and probably is nothing, drowned out by the sounds of sleep all around them. He waits until Eren’s breath evens out, for his body to relax and unfurl. Sleep comes easy, then.


End file.
